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SWARTHMORE IDYLLS 
By John Russell Hayes 
With Illustrations 
By Robert Sha<w 



Sivarthmore Idylls 



SWARTHMORE IDYLLS 

BY JOHN RUSSELL HAYES ^ ^ 
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS ^ ^ ^ 
BY ROBERT SHAW .* .< .< ^ 



These Swarthntore walls that rise toward heaven' s blue. 

Etched with memorial green, the ages long 

Will in the dust lay low. But human hearts 

Pure, S7veet and strong, are zvalls invisible, 

Groiving more deep and broad in years that touch 

The granite to decay^bundation sure 

For building of the Architect Divine/ 

— Elizabeth Powell Boxd 



WILMINGTON, DELAWARE 
THE JOHN M. ROGERS .< 

PRESS: IS99 ^ .-<.•« j* j* 



TWO COPIES RECEIVED, , t^ 

Library of Congresj, V -^ ^ 

OffUo of the h<\ik^ 

D- J 6-1899 ' \(x 

Register of CopyMghtft 1«^" I 



49870 

Copyright by 
Johu Russell Hayes 

1899 



SECOND COPY, 



0^ 



H_ 






To 
W. H. A. 

Dua docto ct dilccto 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Swarthmore 7 

Happy College Days of Old 14 

Anniversary Ode Ifi 

The West House 24 

"Beatus Ille" 30 

The Mother's Gifts 35 

In College Days 39 

lu Swarthmore Meeting 45 

Sonnets: 

A Portrait of Lucretia Mott 47 

Hope, Trust, Believe! 48 

We Who Dwell in Sight of Thee 49 

Titauia and Bottom 50 

The Asphaltum-Makers . 53 

To Canon Rawnsley 54 

Swarthmore, Fairest! 55 

The Grey Olde Maune of Dreames 56 



SWARTHMORE 

GRAY College, on th}- green and silent hill, 
Beside thy groves of beech and shadowy spruce, 
O'erlooking man}- a mile of peaceful field, 
Deep, dreamy wood and river-meadow fair, — 
Thy children love thee well, and he not least 
Who offers now this slender meed of song. 

I 

In thee, Swarthmore, are centered noblest hopes; — 

Not without spiritual light they planned 

And built, those Quakers of the olden school. 

Here in the sweet and wholesome countryside, 

Free from the city's tumult and its stain, — 

Erecting here by Penn's primeval woods 

An edifice to learning dedicate. 

To science and the high humanities, 

And beauteous arts that nourish mind and sotd; 

Their fair foundation gifting with the name 

Of that old House in ancient Lancashire 

Where Fox, the high-souled Founder of his sect. 

Oft sought retirement from the world's loud noise 

And steeled his godly heart for fresh crusades. 

— And not a few with pilgrim feet have fared 

From this new Swarthmore in the western world 

To that old home and cradle of their faith; 

And on these walls, "etched with memorial green," 

An English ivy grows, fair living link 

Binding our younger Swarthmore to the old. 



SWAkTHMORE IDYLLS 



II 



Here in the sweet and wholesome coiintr3'side, 
Free from the city's tumult and its stain, 
The youth who pays allegiance unto her, 
Our Mother Loved, grows in his loyalty 
As weeks and months go by, and all her peace 
And tranquil beaut}' fill his finer moods, 
Moulding his consciousness by slow degrees. 

Here, pondering the poetries of old. 
The records and the lore of ages gone. 
He in a measure heritor becomes 
Of ancient men and good, of Socrates, 
Of Virgil, and of Luther, and the sweet 
Assisan, and of many a sage who taught, 
Or bard who sang in accents high, the great 
Imperishable and universal truths. 

Ill 
Fair is the landscape sloping from thy walls. 
Gray Swarthmore, to the distant river-meads: 
Fair in its springtime mantle soft and green. 
When Crum winds slow by banks of violets; 
Fair in the autunm when the dreamy mists 
Their glamour lend unto the ripened year; 
Yea, fair in lean midwinter's sombre days 
When all is wrapt in silence weird and white, 
Hamlet and hill and stream and far-off farm. 
And yonder low-eaved West Hou.se quaint and old. 



SWARTH3IORE 

Fair are thy western woods where sinks the sun 

In glory tender and ineffable, — 

Tall western woods where all the summer long 

Stillness prevails and shady solitude. 

In stormy twilights when the year is old 

The swaying trees a mournful music make 

Along those steep wood-slopes; and warmly housed, 

The cheery student-mates with twofold joy 

Converse, or muse, or find a fresh delight 

In books, those high companions of the soul. 

Each season hath its pleasures, its rewards 

For keen devotions and for studious days; 

Each season finds the Swarthmore landscape fair 

With beauty and sweet peacefulness, of power 

To soften and make glad the graver hours; 

But fairest in the young and tremulous days 

When April whitens those old cherry trees 

And wraps the campus all in verdure soft. 

And the dear meadow-lark in dewy grass 

Pours out his clear, pellucid notes of joy; 

While students in the dreamy afternoons 

Read pastoral poets 'neath the bowering trees. 

Or old romances out of Spenser's page, 

Musing in revery, as Arnold mused 

In Oxford's academic solitudes. 

Arnold, — a cherished name in Swarthmore shades! 

And once among us came that seer august, 

Lingered beneath our trees, and in our halls 



SIVARTHMORE IDYLLS 

Lifted his sweet, sad voice, bequeathing fair 

Hellenic echoes that can never die. 

— Wordsworthian music fills this master's page; 

And while in college days are sown the seeds 

Of friendships true and sweet, his idylls twain 

Beloved shall be, and sympathetic youth 

Shall grieve with him for Thyrsis lost from earth. 

IV 

As turns some traveler in a distant land 

And dreams of his far home across the seas, 

So we thy children, Swarthmore, dream of thee 

When we have gone from out thy sheltering arms 

To cope with .sterner life. Dear memories rise 

In those more pensive hours that haunt us all. 

When by the ingleside on winter nights 

Or in some tender sunset by the sea 

The heart is warmed, — dear memories arise 

Of the old Quaker college, once the home 

And happy sanctuary of our youth. 

In those more pensive hours old Swarthmore days, 

Fair with the glamour years and distance give, 

Rise up to cheer the meditative heart: — 

The old remembered hours; the faces dear 

Of class-mates, friends and teachers; and the scene 

We loved to contemplate in those far days, — 

The peaceful townships sloping to the south. 

With fields and farms and nestling villages, 

And ever-beauteous woodlands fading far 



10 




Swarthmore Hall, England 
' Thai old House in ancirnl I,ancashire" 



SWARTHMORE 



Into the misty edges of the sky; — 
A hundred recollections like to these 
Make glad those winter evenings b>- the fire 
Or tender summer sunsets by the sea. 



To these calm precincts age can never come, 

Save as the ivy comes on yonder walls 

To clothe with fadeless green: — here Youth abides, 

Here bright Enthusiasm hath her home, 

And Faith and clear-eyed Hope are sisters here I 

— Then, Swarthmore, we thy daughters and thy sons 

Still turn to thee and feel the rosy touch 

Of youthful days, the glamour and the glow 

Of golden j-ears and memorable hours. 

Mother Revered, still ht tin' message given 

With amplest hand; still be thy children led 

Along the pure and consecrated paths 

With Beauty for their talisman and guide; 

Not that "mere beauty" which some men condemn 

And others fear, but Beauty which is one 

With truth and power and widest perfectne.ss, 

Beauty admitting them to fellowship 

With all of pure and high and holiest 

In nature and in spiritual realms, — 

Beauty that wakes to life the harmony 

Which Shakespeare says is in immortal souls! 



13 



HAPPY COLLEGE DAYS OF OLD 

r\ HAPPY college clays of old, 
^^ And ha\-e ye gone forever, 
So rich in memories untold 

And joys that wither never! 
Ah, fair and fadeless were the flowers 
That bloomed for us in those dear hours! 

O days that never knew a care, 

O days of youth and glory. 
That led by magic paths and fair 

Through sununer-lands of story! 
Across the years your echoes flow, 
Ye golden days of long ago. 

Now over life's wide fields we roam 
With little time for dreaming, 

Yet visions of our college home 
Within our hearts are gleaming. 

O sweet and unforgotten j^ears, 

We see you through our misty tears! 

O comrades scattered far and wide, 

By forest or by river. 
By mountain-slope or ocean-tide, — 

One bond shall bind us ever; 
Old Swarthmore days shall dearer grow 
As o'er the lengthening hills we go. 



14 



HAPPY COLLEGE DAYS OF OLD 

Those happy days we 3"et maj- see; 

They live in letters golden 
Upon the scrolls of memory 

In records sweet and olden. 
Forever beautiful are they, 
And we shall cherish them for aye! 



15 



ANNIVERSARY ODE 

FOR THE TWENTY-FIFTH COMMENCEMENT OF 
SWARTHMORE COI.I,EGE, 1897 

NOT thine, O Swartlimore, is the ripeness yet 
Which long, slow centuries beget; 
Not thine the glory which gray Oxford knows, 
Nor that old seat by Cam's untroubled tide. 
About their pensive shades abide 
An old-world stateliuess and deep repose 
Born of a thousand years of tranquil peace. 
Renowned are they, and fraught 
With beauty from the ages brought. 
— Such guerdon, Swarthniore, as the days increase, 
Thy children wish for thee! 
But now our song must be 
Of youth, and all the promise golden 
Which in the visions of bright youth is holden. 

Green is the ivy on thy walls, 

And green the slopes whereon thy shadow falls; 

All that the charmed eye may see, 

Pasture and dale and far-off dreamy tree, 

In vernal loveliness but speak of thee: 

For thou art yet in thy sweet prime, 

Still in the rosy east thy sun doth climb. 

With verdant coronal thy brows are bound, 

Gathered where April first 

Her fragile fetters burst 

And strewed with starry bloom the greenwood ground. 



16 



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* These walls, 'rtilieii 7ci(h tnetnorial greett' 



ANN/VKA'SARY ODE 

Full of the morning's J03' I see thee stand, 

Like some fair, new-crowned Queen within a peaceful land! 

Til}' young and happy heart, I know, 

Is oft aglow 

With all that most endears 

Unto the old gray world youth's dewy years, — 

Fond hopes and aspirations high. 

Enduring faith that lets no stormy sky 

Obscure the steady stars whose certain shining 

Thou knowest well; 

Enduring faith whose gladness no dark spell 

Of sad repining 

Hath power to change or charm away; — 

Preserving fadeless ever and alway 

Pandora's one last precious gift to man. 

That dower from the age Promethean 

The heart of noble youth inspiring 

With loftiest desiring, — 

E'en 'this young band, hopeful, elate, 

Who stand to-day within thy gate. 

O tell me of the dreams, young Queen of hojae. 

That make more tender yet thy tender eyes. 

Here where unclouded skies 

Bend lovingly above the slope 

Of thy dear hill, 

While June's sweet days of silence fill 

Meadow and tremulous glade 

And cloistered aisles of sylvan shade. 



19 



SWARTHMORE IDYLLS 

Wide fields of rippling wheat 

And purple clover fragrant-sweet, — 

With all the niid-j-ear's primal loveliness; 

Here where with glance serene 

Thou gazest o'er the soft idyllic scene, 

To where the gleaming river's mild caress 

Enfolds the sleeping woods 

With reedy reach and watery solitudes. 

Ah, tell me, doth thy dreaming gaze 

Find in that landscape's sweep. 

Yon river, and the far Atlantic deep, 

Shadows and images of ancient days ? 

Doth some new-old Rhine-hoard, 

By fairy fingers stored, 

lyie hidden in the depths of that fair stream. 

Filling the pauses of thy dream 

With echoes of the Middle Age remote ? 

Or doth the wave-tossed boat 

Of lorn Ulysses plying 

By spectral islands far outlying. 

Sweep o'er the tides of yonder misty sea, 

Fresh-fleeing from the vSirens' witchery ? 

Yea; for I think the present doth not all 

Thy phantasy enthrall; 

Nor doth hard-featured Fact 

Bind thee with metes and measurements exact. 

In man's blind striving for the strange and new 

He hath Init little left, 'tis true, 



20 



.■; NNI VERSA A' } ' ODE 

Of the old pristine glory 

Of myth and magic story: 

The golden harmonies of ancient years 

Fall on insensate ears; 

Still farther from the old Parnassian shrine 

Our weary way doth lead; 

Small time have we to heed 

The faint, sad voice of oracles divine, 

Whose hollow echoes weep 

Through high Dodona's grove or by lone Delphi's steep! 

Yet while fair Learning's temples still endure 

Man shall not wholly >ield luito the lure 

Of pelf. The voice of wisdom shall 

With pleadings musical 

Call him from dusty ways of care. 

Into the still and tranquil air 

Of truths eternal, — teaching him God's word 

Breathed by the waving wood, the joyous bird. 

The tiny roving bee, — 

Present in cloud and rock and tree. 

And in the pure and perfect grace 

Of simple nature's heaven-reflecting face. 

In Wisdom's sanctuaries, too, 

Conununion shall he hold 

With tho.se high masters of the days of old, 

The wise, the beautiful, the true, — 

Who, voicing thoughts sublime 

In stately utterance or rolling rhyme. 



21 



SWARTHMORE IDYLLS 

Still to the human soul must be 
Bearers of light and immortality! 

— Swarthmore, for thee it is a laurelled day, 
The brightest day in all thine annals clear; 
From many a distant town and rural way 
Come those who hold thee dear, — 
Founder and friend and patron; and thine own 
Devoted children, full of warm acclaim 
For thy beloved name, 
Full of high hope that thine may be, 
Mother Revered, a not inglorious destiny! 

Wisely and well the seed was sown ; 

O wisely be the gleaning done, and well! 

Be not unheeded or unheard the spell 

Of memoried names, nor of the memoried faces 

From whose still station on thy walls 

A sweet and silent consecration falls. 

Ah, dearer yet shall grow the dear old places 

Thine earlier children knew; 

Another line shall rise of tender hearts and true. 

And 'neath the murmurous music of thj- trees 

Shall learn of larger truth. 

Nourishing their beauteous years of youth 

With wider faiths, sweeter philanthropies. 

Ideals loftier far than we may know. 

So shall thy peaceful mission grow; 
So shall the ripening hour 



22 



ANNIVERSARY ODE 

Bring on the fair and perfect flower, — 

Till down long vistas of illustrious years 

Thy sons shall gaze with noble pride, 

Thy daughters by their side 

Bless thee with happy tears; — 

While thou dost calmly face the Future vast, 

Still cherishing thy spirit's steadfast flame. 

Still cherishing an old ancestral name 

August with memories of thine own sweet Past ! 



23 



THE WEST HOUSE* 

/^ ANCIENT House, what memories are gleaming, 
^-^ What recollections of the vanished hours, 
While through the silent summer thou art dreaming 
Enfolded by thy trees and meadow- flowers ? 
What visions of old days 

May cheer thy lonely heart, 
Seen through the hallowed haze 
Where thou dost muse apart ? 

Peaceful and calm, — of our unrest and worry 

Tliou heedless art; our fevers touch not thee; 
Thou sharest not our age's heat and hurry. 
Secure in thy serene tranquillity. 

Not all the troublous schemes 

The weary centur\' knows 
Can mar thy quiet dreams 
Or break thy calm repose. 

Dear fragrant June is smiling in her glory. 
Filled with the radiance of youth is she; 
From out the quiet of thy shadows hoarj' 
Thou watchest o'er her beauty tenderly. 
To thy gray walls she cleaves 

With childish, shy caress. 
And bowers thine ancient eaves 
With leafy loveliness. 

■■■■■Read at the xmveiliiiii of a nit-inurial tablet at the birthplace 
of Benjamin West. P. R. A., — >Swarthiiiore June 23, 1898 



■i»'**9-, • 



'*A, m.'4^ 




" Thfc, lihi Hoii$t\ thai shunhcrest scrt-iulv, 
U't' cherish as the Painter's boyhood home'" 



THE WEST HOUSE 

The perfume of her sweet old-fashioned roses 

Awakes in thee a thought of other years, 
And revery o'er those phantom days discloses 
The faded hours that bring regretful tears. 
Far voices call to thee 

In a remembered tongue 
From that old century 
When thou, gray House, wert young! 

Perchance thou dreamest of departed faces, 

Colonial dwellers by the woodlands tall, 
Grave Quaker ^-eomen, dames of antique graces, 
And soft-eyed children best beloved of all. 
Full often did they pass 
Or linger at X\\y door, 
Blithe lad and ruddy lass. 
In those far years of yore. 

They long have gone from earth, but thou art keeping 

In thine old heart their memory yet clear, 
While through the generations the}- are sleeping 
Forgot of all save thee for many a year; 
Forgot of all save thee 

The place of their repose, 
Where wandering ivies be 
And tangled briar-rose. 

But best and brightest of the memories olden 
That fill thy mellow age with quiet jo}', — 

O best and brightest are the memories golden 
That cluster rotind one Heaven-gifted boy! 



27 



SH 'AR THMORE ID 3 'LLS 

Though that far mother-clime 

Claim his maturity, 
Yet all his boyhood's prime 

Belongs, old House, to thee. 

He loved the silence of these woodland alleys, 

He loved the colors of this peaceful sky, 
He loved these sleeping hills and grassy valleys; 
Their tranquil beauty pleased his artist eye. 
For many a summer hour 

Delighted would he pore 

On each dear native flower 

Beside his father's door. 

W^ith happy heart he gazed upon the splendor 

Of regal autumn in the crimson woods; 
With happy heart he saw the beauty tender 
Of budding life in vernal solitudes. 
His artist soul was thrilled 
With visions of delight, 
His waking fancy filled 

W'ith dreams and longings bright. 

And when at last he stood at manhood's portal 
And passed forever from these meadows dear, 
Perchance his visions of a fame immortal 
Were not unmingled with regret sincere. 
Wherever he might roam 

In lands beyond the sea, 
Still would his childhood's home 
Not unremembered be. 



28 



THE UESr HOrSE 

And now amonj;- tlic mighty he is l>'ing 

Where Wren's cathedral dreams 'mid London's roa 
Companioned with a company undying 
His is a name to hve forevermore! 
Hard by Lud's ancient gate 

Where England's life-tide sweeps, 
Entombed with England's great 
The Quaker Painter sleeps. 

And thee, old House, that slumberest serenely, 

We cherish as the Painter's boyhood home; 
With tender care 3'on College young and queenly 
Doth shadow thee with her protecting dome. 
In academic shades 

The Artist's fame shall last; 
Here Glory never fades, 
Nor reverence for the Past! 

So, ancient House, rare memories are gleaming, 

Sweet recollections of the vanished hours. 
While through the silent summer thou art dreanung 
Enfolded by thy trees and meadow-flowers. 
Bright visions of old da>s 

Still cheer thy lonely heart 
Seen through the hallowed haze 
Where thou dost muse apart! 



29 



"BEATUS ILLE" 

O BLEST the peace that falls 
In solitudes serene, 
Where ivied college walls 

Rise o'er the tranquil green; 
And blest the ardent j-outh 
Who climbs the hills of Truth 

And basks awhile in Wisdom's wide demesne! 

The noises of the world 

His musings may not mar, 
Nor darkling smoke upcurled 

From clangorous marts afar; 
While fragrant and more dear 
He finds each golden year 

Upon the leaves of Youth's white calendar. 

Here may he converse hold 

With men of mighty name, 
The deathless ones of old 

And seers of starry fame; 
View Plato's page divine, 
And ponder at the shrine 

Whence Homer's sons have born the sacred flame. 

From old primeval tales 

The honey he may seize, 
Dream in Arcadian vales 

Or 'neath Sicilian trees; 



30 



P 9* 








.^- 



•'Stillneis pyevaih and ihady soliliiite" 



''BEATrS ILLE" 

Hear Dido's plaint forlorn, 
Or Roland's thunderous horn 

Resounding through the misty centuries! 

With measures musical 

The minstrels of old time 
Shall hold him willing thrall 

To golden-hearted rhyme; 
Shakespeare's eternal scroll 
Enchant his deepest soul, 

And Milton move with harmony sublime. 

The annals of the earth. 

Antiquity's gray streams. 
Shall give his fancy birth 

And touch his heart to dreams; 
The glories of the vast 
Immeasurable Past 

Fill all his vision with undying gleams! 

Nature, the genial nurse, 

His guiding-star shall be; 
Through all the universe 

Her radiance may he see; 
And she will bid him hear 
With spiritual ear 

The music of her endless symphony. 

Nor shall he miss the flowers 
That grow his way along. 



33 



SWARTHMOKE IDYLLS 

Speeding the sunny hours * 

With merriment and song; , 

Or training heart and eye 

In emulation high 

On happy meads where friendly rivals throng. 

So day by golden day 

More luminous and bright 
Shall glow the steadfast ray 

That sets his soul alight: 
With Peace and Purity 
His comradeship shall be, 

And Faith that leads him on from height to height. 

Then when Life sunnnons him, 

With bounding hope he hears, 
And yet his eyes are dim 

With honorable tears, 
As with reluctant feet 
He leaves the.se precincts sweet. 

This .sanctuary of his vernal }-ears. 

O blest the peace that falls 

In cloistered shades serene, 
Where ivied college walls 

Rise o'er the silent green; 
And happy is the youth 
Who climbs the hills of Truth 

And basks awhile in Wisdom's fair demesne! 



34 



THE MOTHER'S GIFTS* 

OWHAT have ye gained in these shady Ijowers 
That nourished your fervent youth; 
What gifts has the Mother Revered of us all 
Bestowed on the children who leave her to-day ? 
Has she bidden you take to your hearts calm Truth, 
And Honor with clear unwavering eyes, 
And their sister Faith that ever points to the skies ? 
Has she made you responsive, emotional, 
Touching your souls with a music fine, 
Attuning )^our ears to the harmony 
Of Nature's rolling cadences divine? 

Has she opened wide the magical door 

Whence ye looked on ancient and god-like men; 

Inscribed for you with immortal pen 

Socratic wisdom, Shakespearian lore? 

Has she given a courage pure that can never 

Suffer ignoble counsel or sordid aim, — 

So leading 3'ou to lo\-e forever 

Righteousness, Reverence, Beauty, and Peace, and Fame, 

And to seek for these with endless, high endeavor? 

Comrades ours, this century old and gray 
Soon to the mighty Past will be gone, 
To another age and a better giving way. 
Joy to you may the coming century bring ! 
Yours is the hope of that radiant dawn, 

■■■From an Ode to the Class of i8qS 



35 



.9 IFA R THMORE ID J 'Z LS 

Yours the hope of that beautiful spring ! 

Whether your fields of life be far or near, 

By native valley or hill, or beyond the seas, 

Give freely, O generous hearts, of your best; 

Enrich the world with your gifts of courage and cheer. 

Uplift the world with your tender ministries. 

Untiring in noble deed and exalted quest ! 

These be the words that shall guide you aright, 

Words of the leader whose coming we honor to-night, — 

" To fee/, to k)io7L\ a)id to do.'" 

O cherish and follow that maxim your lifetime through: 

Feel, kium', and do, — and your harvest-home shall be 

Beautiful, perfect, and free! 



3G 




'■ // 'here windeth yoniifv s(i cinn 
PeaieJuUy as in a dream"' 



IN COLLEGE DAYS 

TN COI.LEGE days,— 
-*- Ah, what a spell. 

Dear words, doth in your music dwell, 
As recollection bears us back 
Along our springtime's golden track, 
When life was young and youth was sweet. 
And time flew by with winged feet; 
When Hope reached forth her kindly hand, 
And all the world was like a wonderland ! 

In college days, — 

The glowing life, 
The healthful games, the friendly strife, 
The pluck that made our rivals yield 
Full oftentimes on track and field. 
When heartened by our sisters fair 
We raised the Garnet high in air. 
And oh ! the balmy month of May, 
When we sat at close of day 
Underneath the college trees 
Chanting all the olden glees, 
Or strolled where windeth yonder stream 
Peacefully as in a dream. 
Here we watched the purple dawn 
Lighting all the sloping lawn, 
Touching with its tender red 
The far-ofT river's silver thread. 



39 



SWARTHMORE IDYLLS 

Here we watched the leafy spring 
Wake to hfe each tender thing, 
Saw the rains of April spill 
From crocus-cup and daffodil; 
Through the dreamy autumn-tide 
Roamed across the country-side, 
Where the purple vapor fills 
All the morning's misty hills, 
While the fruits were waxing mellow 
And the corn-fields waning j'ellow. 
Winter's beauty charmed us, too. 
With its riot winds that blew — 
Sounding through the swaging trees 
Wild, majestic symphonies. 
'Twas then we saw the pane embossed 
With the magic of the frost. 
Watched the soft snow drifting down 
Hiding all the landscape brown; 
And, shod with steel, went fleeting o'er 
The sleeping Crum's smooth, icy floor. 
And thus we found each season dear 
That rounded out the sweet and lingering year. 

In college days, — 

What precious hours 
We spent in gentle Wisdom's bowers! — 
Nourishing our eager youth 
With lofty messages of truth, 
Pondering the rote and rule 



40 



IN COLLEGE DAYS 

Of each philosophic school, 
Musing much upon the vast 
Epic story of the Past, 
And seeking for the primal cause 
Of nature's universal laws. 
But best of all, — O sweet and long 
Our sojourn with the sons of song! — 
Faring o'er the storied sea 
In gray Homer's company, 
Listening to the epic lay 
Sung in Rome's imperial da^', 
Chaucer's warblings sweet as rains 
In old England's April lanes, 
Spenser's golden-cadenced line, 
Milton's melody divine, 
And the many-voiced string 
Of him whom all men hail as Poet-King. 

In college days, — 

Ah, comrades, when 
Come those golden hours again ? 
Come they e'er, save through the haze 
Of our dreams of yesterdays, — 
Recollections sweet and old 
On the inmost heart enrolled ? 
— When the joys of life shall pall 
And the shadows round us fall. 
When our vessels' sails are furled 
From our voyaging down the world, — 



41 



SWARTHMQRE IDYLLS 

Looking back through smiles and tears 
On tlie unforgotten years, 
None more joyous shall we see 
Than the years that used to be 
In college days! 



42 






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" T/if quiet Meeting-house beside 
The grove on Szvarthmore^ s peaceful hilV 



IN SWARTHMORE MEETING 

THOUGH Swarthmore's children wander wide, 
In memory they cherish still 
The quiet Meeting-house beside 
The grove on Swarthmore's peaceful liill. 

In this still home of quietude 
The worldly spirit fades away; 
To sober thought we frame our mood 
Here on each tranquil Sabbath day. 

No ritual these precincts know, 
Unless it be when j'onder trees 
Responding to soft winds that blow 
Chant forth their leafy litanies. 

And though no organ shake the air, 
No hymns uplift melodious words. 
Yet wandering breezes hither bear 
The anthems of the happ\- birds. 

And here in musings deep and true 
Communing silently apart, 
We dedicate ourselves anew 
And feel a quickening of the heart. 

O rich the man}- offerings brought 
And yielded on the listening air. 
The poet's pure immortal thought. 
The .sage's precept large and fair! 



45 



SWARTHMORE IDYLLS 

And rich the messages of truth 

From riper souls among us here, 

Sweet words that still the doubts of youth 

And point the path of dut}* clear. 

What seeds of good those words may be 

In this retired and holy time, 

Amid so fair a company 

In life's receptive, ardent prime! 

Though Swarthmore's children wander wide, 

In memory they cherish still 

The quiet Meeting-house beside 

The grove on Swarthmore's peaceful hill. 



46 



A PORTRAIT OF LUCRETIA MOTT* 

I LOOK on that serene and saintly face 
And mark the peaceful beauty pictured there; 
In that calm countenance no weight of care 
Nor darkness of distress could e'er displace 
Or overshade the sweet, old-fashioned grace. 
She seems an angel sent to do and dare, 
A gentle martyr fortified to bear 
Truth's sorest trials. Yet here is no sad trace 
Of her life's battles; from those tranquil eyes 
There beams a perfect peace. O noble soul. 
What do not Truth and Freedom owe to thee! 
Thy name we love, thy memorj- we prize; 
And round thy brow we see the aureole 
That crowned thy life of sweet philanthropy. 

"Painted by the late William Henry Furness, and presented 
to Swarthmore College by liis father, the late Rev. William H. 
Furness 



47 



HOPE, TRUST, BELIEVE!* 

HOPE, trust, believe! Look not with doubting ej'es, 
Nor muse on wasted or on fruitless days; 
Take courage new, and fix the steadfast gaze 
On sunny mountain peaks and the pure skies, 
In whose unsullied depths all glory lies. 
Like high-souled pilgrims let no forest's maze 
Entangle your sure feet, no valley's haze 
Bedim your vision of the far-off prize. 

O valiant hearts and young, the rosy dawn 

Is yours to-day, and yours life's beaut)' vernal; 

Nor shall their primal radiance be withdrawn, 

If in sweet consecration you receive 

And cherish as a talisman eternal, 

The message of that morn, "Hope, trust, believe!" 

'■•'On an address to the students by Lyman Abbott, February 9, 1899 



48 



WE WHO DWELL IN SIGHT OF THEE 

TTAPPY are we who dwell in sight of thee, 

■*--*- Dear Swarthniore, — with thy stately domes that rise 

Serene as the encircling summer skies, 

Thy storied ivies and each memoried tree. 

Thy green that fades into the far-off lea, 

Those woods that golden autumn glorifies. 

And yon deep western vale where softly dies 

The winter sun in lingering majesty! 

Thy joyous children we, for whom the years 
Are bounteous of the things that perish not, — 
Friendships, sweet ministries, and true content. 
Close linked together by the sentiment 
Of love for thee, we share our joys and tears. 
Nor ask the Father for a happier lot. 



49 



TITANIA AND BOTTOM* 

'T'V /HAT charm and beauty in that sylvan scene! 
VV We were forgetful of the world a space 
The while we marked the spiritual grace 
Of airy elves around their winsome Queen, 
There in the dim, deep, moonlit forest green; 
And but for Bottom with his monstrous face, — 
Earth's one intrusion on that fairy place, — 
It were a dream, harmonious and serene. 

Shakespearian beauty and Shakespearian wit 

In this immortal comedy combine, — 

A pageant fair of mirth and melod}', 

Wherein the Bard with wondrous hand hath knit, 

In link on link of fragrant poesy, 

The union of the earthly and divine! 

'''Shakespeare Evening, 1898 



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' H'/it'?i Cruni ifimis shu- by hanks of violets" 



THE ASPHALTUM-MAKERS* 

WHEN the pale sun had sunk behind the wood 
And deepening shadows crept across the snow, 
I watched the wearied laborers come and go 
As each his own appointed task pursued. 
How strangely in that twilight solitude 
Each common, unpoetic thing did show, — 
The rusty furnace with its lurid glow, 
The barrows and the piles of fagots rude. 
The dark pitch-mounds! — Upon them one and all 
The hand of sentiment had laid its spell. 
And as I heard the mellow evening bell 
In soft and measured cadence rise and fall, 
I mused on Fancy's power to glorify 
The lowliest objects that around us lie! 

^Renewing the long College walk, December, 1S98 



53 



TO CANON RAWNSLEY* 

'' I ^HOU gav'st us golden words that golden day, — 
-*- Thou spiritual scion of the Seer 
Who made the English lakes forever dear, 
The English mountains memorable for aye. 
We seemed to hear from lonely summits gray. 
From fell and murmurous tarn and tranquil mere. 
Echoes of that great Voice serene and clear 
Whose message is a solace and a stay! 

The world hath need of calming words like those 

In this her troubled hour of haste and heat; 

Childlike in their simplicity, and sweet, 

They come with consolation and repose. 

In grateful memory, then, we cherish thee, — 

Apostle of Wordsworth's deep tranquillity! 

*After hi.s address at Uie College, on Wordsworth's Message, October 
i8, iSgg 



54 



SWARTHMORE, FAIREST!* 

SWARTHMORE, fairest ! 
Ah, to thee 
Must m}- earliest ofFeriugs be, — 
To thee upon thy grass)- hill 
'Mid thy meadows sweet and still. 
With thy charms that dearer grow 
As the hasting seasons go. 
In the summer of my youth 
Drank I at thy founts of truth. 
Joying in the ample store 
Thou didst ever freely pour, — 
Lessons out of Nature's page, 
Words of scholar and of sage. 
And the love of poets old 
Chanting numbers all of gold. 
Happy years and dreamy-sweet, 
Happy years, but all too fleet ! 
Holding these in memory 
I inscribe my Book to thee. 

■■'Dedication of The Old-Fashioned Garden and Other I'erses 



THE GREY OLDE MANNE OF DREAMES 

SENEX. DISCIPULUS. 

Senex. f~\ WAL Y, ivaly by the Briggc 

^-^ That spannes the sleepic Criimmc! 
And waly by the woodsy de Rockes 
\ \ lirrc Profs did never eome! 

Diseipulus. Now, Senex, saye, what can thee aj'le, 
And why thy niournfulle Cry, 
Whenas the Lilye's on the Lea, 
The Larke ymounted hj'e ? 

Why onlye dost thou moane 

Alone 
Upon the mossie Stone ? 

Senex. Ah, (,'ossyp, never canst thou knowe 
What carefulle Carke is myne. 
Who for the Dayes that are no moe 
Do pityfullie p3'ne. 

And syttinge all alone 

Do moane 
Upon the mossie Stone! 

Alacke! acrosse my drowzie Dreame 
Doth portlie Pennell passe. 

Who solde his frostie Lollypoppe 
At Pennies five a Glasse. 



O 



5(i 



THE GREY OLDE DIAXNE OF DREAMES 

O manye an Afternoone 
Of June 
I've seene him wielde his Spooiie! 

And that kinde Soule of Janinies and Tartes, 

O Nay- Chi//, where is she, 
Who tooke us in when sore Exams 
Did presse luipleasauntlie ? — 

Within whose Doores we stayde 

And made 
Our Meales on Marmalade. 

O 7va/v bv the Laundric Walk 

Where Pennell iiiont to be! 
And icaly, ivaly bv the Doore 

Of Raj'-Chell's Nurserie! 

Where once the Tubbe-race drewe the Crowde 

Of Youthe to Cnimme his Bankes, 
With loftie Mien disdainfullie 
The Inne-folke pace in Rankes. 

Uncouthe the Race they dubbe 

With Tubbe,— 
Ah, Gossyp, there's the Ruljbe! 

And nevermoe are hearde in Halle 

Those jocunde Feres, perdie, 
Who plyde at golden Sette of Sunne 

Their merrie Minstrelsie: 

Gone 
57 



SWARTHMORE WYLLS 

Gone is the mellowe Flute, 
And mute 
The softlie-stricken Lute! 

O 'waly for the doughtic Decdes 
On Crumme his glassie Streame! 

And waly for the Musickc softe 
That setie myne Heartc adirame.' 

O Dicke and Davie, do ye muse 

Upon those Dayes of Yore, 
When ye and ly tel Joe and I 
Were happie Comrades foure ? 
Like Phantom-formes, alas. 

Ye passe 
Acrosse my Memorie's glasse! 

Those bonnie Yeares are long j'gone, 
And Naught unchanged doth byde, 
Unlesse it be the lytel Oakes 
The lengthie Walke beside, 

Whereat the Wittie croake 

And poke 

Ful manye a mouldie Joke. 

O waly for the lioneyde Houres 
That ii'C in Youthe have knowne! 

And waly for the lytel Oakes 

That bare an Inche have growne! 



Ah, 



58 



THE GREY OLDE MANNE OF DREAM ES 

Ah, woe and welladaye! my Voyce 

Is all unhearde, meseeras, 
And by the Younkers am I highte 
The Grey Olde Manne of Dreames. 
Loe, fade away I muste, 

Where Duste 
Doth lie, and Mothe and Ruste! 



59 



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